A Study in Tequila
by MissHannah1105
Summary: After a drunken girl's night with her flat mate, Mary, Molly Hooper finds herself in the arms of the world's only Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes as he puts her to bed. She finds herself extremely hungover & confused by his actions the next morning and sets out to find what exactly Sherlock's intentions are, all while helping her best friend successfully date John Watson.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1.

"I have to quit that job. I just can't take it anymore!" Mary shouted in the general direction of the kitchen as she flopped down, face first, onto the 1980's couch that occupied a large space in the tiny flat's main room.

"You say the same thing ever night when you come home," a sweet voice said from the kitchen.

Moments later a thin woman with long chocolate colored locks emerged from the next room carrying a tray with two mugs, a bowl of sugar, and two shots of tequila.

"I wasn't sure if the day was chamomile bad or liquor bad."

Mary perked up at the sound of the tray being gently set on the coffee table. "Definitely Jose tonight. Like, the whole bottle."

"Drink the tea first while you tell me what was so bad, then we go spring-break crazy and forget why it sucked with Mr. Cuervo. Deal?" Molly bargained.

"Deal," Mary said grabbing the mug as she began to vent to her flatmate.

Mary had met Molly Hooper when they were at uni. Molly had always been the studious one. After acing nearly every class she took (Mary never let her live down that C she got in her ceramics class.) Molly went on to medical school, passed her boards and became a doctor. Her shyness kept her from practicing with the living so after a few years Molly found herself working in the pathology department of Saint Bartholomew's.

Unlike Miss Molly Hooper, Mary was not the type to be found with her nose in a book. After barely making the marks to graduate, she found herself hopping from mundane job to mundane job. Currently she was working as a waitress in a café on Baker Street in London.

The café was in walking distance of their flat and Molly worked close enough she could pop in on her lunch breaks.

Knowing she would see Molls a few times a week was the only salvation Mary found at the café. While most of the clientele were sweet old men looking for their daily tuna melts or groups of women coming to share the newest gossip over a cuppa there was one patron she abhorred.

Mary quickly downed her tea and scuttled to the kitchen to grab the bottle.

"He was back today," she shouted to Molly.

Molly blushed, she knew exactly to whom Mary was referring.

"Oh?"

"He's always so insensitive and needy. I really don't see what you see in him, honey."

Molly blushed a more vibrant shade of red this time.

"Molls, seriously? He is so… so…"

Finally, Molly mustered up the courage to defend her crush, cutting off Mary's thought mid-sentence.

"He really isn't that bad, Mary. Sure he's curt and tetchy, but deep down I think he really has a good heart. I mean, he even has a flat mate now."

"That Watson bloke? He's cute, but I don't see that lasting any longer than a snowball in the desert." Mary wasn't about to admit to her shameless and frequent flirting with Dr. Watson to Molly.

A few shots later Molly was beginning to feel a pleasant tingling sensation throughout her body.

"You need to take more risks," a not entirely sober Mary muttered.

Puzzled and slightly drunk, Molly looked at Mary with glazed eyes, her eyebrows knit together.

"You need to make the first move!" Mary shouted, golden liquid sloshing out of her glass.

Molly blushed a lovely shade of crimson at the thought. She decided the best way to get Mary to let the idea go was to play dumb and innocent.

"What do you mean?" Molly asked, trying to play as though the alcohol was affecting her generally sharp mind.

Mary saw through her ploy and wasn't going to give up easily.

"You need to text him… tonight. Right now!"

"Who?" Molly muttered before downing another shot.

"Sherlock Holmes!"

...

"Bored!"

"Sherlock, could you please _stop_ with the riding crop?"

"BORED!"

"Sherlock, we just bought this chair."

Try as he might John Watson's pleas weren't going to stop his flat mate from beating the tar out of the brand new chair they had found. Tragic too, it was quite comfortable.

"I saw that woman again today," Sherlock interjected between blows to the furniture.

"Woman? What woman? _The_ Woman?!"

Sherlock paused, mid swing. "John, we both know Irene Adler is dead. I meant that ginger girl in the café you always are making eyes at when we stop for lunch."

The world's only Consulting Detective when back to abusing the chair.

"Oh. Mary?" John blushed wishing he had gone down to lunch with Sherlock today instead of eating left over casserole. "Did she say anything about me?"

Pausing again, Sherlock dropped his weapon and threw his long, lean body onto the chair he had just tenderized and let out a displeased "hmph." He disliked when John flirted with waitresses at places they frequented. When the relationship inevitably ended he could no longer dine there on the days he was actually hungry enough to eat.

"I think she might be friends with Molly Hooper." John added in a feeble attempt to engage his bored friend. "You know, Molly, from Bart's."

"Yes, of course I know Molly." Sherlock barked, "What would give you any indication that I was _unaware_ of Miss Hooper?"

At that moment Sherlock's phone buzzed across the room.

Unfolding himself from the rather now lopsided armchair, he glided over to the desk and unlocked the phone.

"Well, speak of the Devil." He remarked in his baritone voice. "It appears as though Miss Hooper has found herself drowning her sorrows in tequila this evening."

"What? How could you possibly know that?"

Sherlock tossed the phone across the room so he could read the message.

'_Sherlock, come at once. I need you. xxx, MH'_

"Sherlock it sounds like she needs help, not like she's drunk." John said as he jumped from his chair, somehow simultaneously pulling on his coat. " We should go check on her."

"No. She's fine. She always texts me when she's, how do I put this delicately, 3 sheets to the wind."

"Fine," John snapped, rather perturbed at the man's insensitivity, "I'll go!"

"Have fun. Give my regards to Dr. Hooper… oh and ask if she has any spare eyes lying around the morgue. I need some for an experiment!" Sherlock shouted as he picked up his violin.

Before he could start playing the door of 221b slammed shut. Sherlock paused for a moment and wondered if he shouldn't join John. Putting his bow back to the violin, he hesitated once more.

"JOHN!" he shouted out the window as he watched the doctor hail a cab, "Wait for me."

_'This had better be good,' _ He thought as he shoved his arms into his signature coat and burst out the front door into the cold London air.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

Mary began giggling hysterically.

A very intoxicated Molly looked her way.

"That is your 'I've been a naughty girl' giggle. What did you do Mary?"

"Let's just say we'll soon find out if Sherlock Holmes is your knight in shining armor or not," Mary giggled as she downed another gulp of wine, an empty tequila bottle laying at her feet.

That's when Molly spotted the pink phone in Mary's hand not holding the wine glass.

"Mary Elise Morstan! What. Have. You. Done!?"

Before Mary can answer, there is a knock at the door.

"Oh my god! He came!" Mary shouts, stumbling and attempting to run to the door while not spilling the dark purple liquid on the rug.

Unbolting the locks as fast as she could, Mary threw open the door shocked to find herself nose to nose not with the rude detective, but with his handsome companion.

"Oh my god!"

The door slammed shut and a red-faced Mary ran into the kitchen giggling.

"Molly, can you get that, I have to change my clothes!"

Molly stood up and shouted to the person on the other side of the door as the knocking began again, "I'm coming!"

Taking her steps carefully Molly finally managed to successfully answer the door.

"John?!" She blurted out with equal excitement and confusion, "What are you doing here?"

"Sherlock got your text and I was worried about you. We both were, actually, he's out in the cab. Should I call him up?"

Just then Mary reappeared wearing a red dress she kindly referred to as her 'get laid' dress causing John's jaw to drop.

"Holy, Mary… wow… Mary, I-I …. Wow."

"Oh, hullo, John. Sorry to rush out of the room earlier, I was, um, I had to get ready for my... er, date." Mary said, carefully letting the words fall from her lips so as not to slur her speech in front of the good doctor.

"Date, eh?"

John seemed disappointed.

Molly interjected before this could digress anymore. "Someone should probably go get Sherlock, yeah? I can do it. Out in the cab you said?"

"What? Yes, he is, I'll just have a seat while you go get him," John muttered, eyes still locked on Mary.

Taking less careful steps so as not to take ages to gather the detective, Molly finally made it to the front door of her building. Forgetting that the front steps were an odd height she tumbled out the door and onto the concrete.

"Dammit!" she shouted looking at her bloodied knees and palms.

Her head was spinning from the alcohol and she needed to get off the cold ground. By the time she could process what the next step was, two strong hands were hoisting her off the ground.

"Someone had some fun tonight," Sherlock said with a coy smile on his face.

Bending over slightly he scooped the tiny woman's legs out from under her and before she could register the action, she was being carried like a small child back to her apartment.

She wanted to protest the action, but it was rare for Sherlock to show such tenderness. She was going to take whatever physical contact she could get. In the lift up to her floor she was briefly reminded of how her father would carry her to bed when she fell asleep on the sofa as a little girl. Her eyelids became heavy and she was struggling to stay away. Between his warmth and the alcohol she was in a perfect state of mind to have a long night of sleep.

Glancing down at the stilled woman in his arms, Sherlock noticed her sleepy and dazed look.

"Molly, have you suffered a concussion this evening?"

"What? No, Sherlock. Why would you ask that?" Molly asked in a sleepy tone.

"I didn't want you to fall asleep and die this evening if you had, now lets get you to bed sleepy head."

Molly's face turned red.

'_Sleepy head,_' she wondered, '_where did that come from._"

Entering her apartment, still in Sherlock's arms, Molly noticed John and Mary conversing on the couch. Mary was running her fingers up and down John's forearm.

'_Oh no. Mary's signature move_,' Molly thought, '_looks like I'm going to be seeing a lot more of John._'

Expecting Sherlock would have put her down by now, Molly glanced up at him. He smiled as he looked down at her.

"I'm taking you right to bed. Your wounds need cleaned and you need to sleep," he murmured, asking the question she hadn't even had the chance to ask.

After cleaning her knees and hands, he pulled the covers over her legs.

"Sweet dreams, Molly," the baritone voice said as the light in the room turned off.

Outside her bedroom door she heard his voice again, although this time it wasn't directed at her.

"John, say goodbye to Mary, I'm ready to go back to Baker Street now. Mary, I suggest you grab a glass of water and put yourself to bed as I have done for Miss Hooper unless you desire your alcohol poisoning to effect your day tomorrow."

Mary's face was blank.

John translated, "Water and an aspirin so you don't have a hangover. Goodnight, Mary."

He gave her a peck on the check and followed Sherlock out the door.

Once in the cab he turned to his flat mate.

"D-did you just tuck Molly Hooper into bed?"

"I merely cared for her. Isn't that the reason we went over there?" Sherlock sneered.

After a pause John answered him.

"I suppose so. That was very kind Sherlock."

The cab pulled up to 221B and Sherlock exited the vehicle, his long coat billowing behind him. Upon entering the flat he went directly to his room and shut the door, he needed to go to his Mind Palace.

Why had he been so kind to Molly? Normally he didn't take kindly to people to consume too much alcohol, but upon seeing her in trouble he felt the need to help. Not only that but he felt something else… Worry. He reminded himself that in the morning he should text her to check on her medical status.

He chuckled to himself. Apparently he did have a heart, and it was worried about Molly Hooper, of all people.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

The next morning Molly awoke to sound of a fire alarm blasting from the kitchen and a faint burning smell.

"Uh, Mary? Everything alright in there?"

No reply.

Untangling herself from the pile of blankets on her bed, Molly turned on the lamp sitting on her bedside table. Instantly a shooting pain was behind her eyeballs.

'_Ugh,_' she thought, '_ Hangover. Just lovely._"

Exiting her room she shouted another greeting to her roommate who faired the alcohol induced escapades from the night before much better than she did.

"Morning, Molls! Eggs are in the pan, coffee is fresh and I even found some oranges for juice. Wheat or rye toast?"

Molly shot a dirty look at Mary. How the hell was she so chipper?

"Wheat please, with jam. I'm getting a shower. Save me coffee. Lots of coffee."

Across town the kitchen of 221B Baker Street was bustling as well.

"Sherlock, tea or coffee?"

"Ah, John. Tea please, in a to go mug. I'm off to Bart's to start a new experiment. Lestrade hasn't called with a case in a while so I figure my other inquiries should be moved to the front burner. Tell me, do you know where I can find a miniature guillotine? "

The doctor was caught off guard by the happiness in his flat mate's voice, along with his odd request. "Uh, you want a wha-"

"Forget it, John. I'll find one myself. Thank you for the tea,' Sherlock said grabbing the steaming thermos from John's hand as he bustled out the front door, passing Mrs. Hudson on the way.

"Morning, Sherlock."

"Morning, Mrs. Hudson." He greeted, pecking the old woman, who was dressed in a rather alarming shade of purple, on the cheek.

And he was gone.

"What is he so jovial about?" She asked, looking toward the man still standing in the kitchen.

"I have _no_ idea, Mrs. Hudson. I really don't."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Molly had managed to still make it to work on time and was thankful to only find paper work on her desk. She was almost sure that if she had to conduct a post-mortem right now she would not be able to do her best work.

A quiet day at her desk was exactly what the mousy pathologist needed.

Not ten minutes after she finished her first report the doors of her morgue burst open. There was only one person she knew that needed to make that dramatic of an entrance.

Without looking up from her papers she knew that Sherlock Holmes had arrived and her hangover wasn't about to go away soon. This day was going to need a fair amount of coffee to finish well.

"Need anything, Sherlock?" she asked a few minutes later, eyes still focused on the file in front of her.

It wasn't until she shut the file, intending to return it to the cabinet on the opposite side of the room, that she realized the handsome man with the prominent cheek bones and eyes the color of the ocean was standing above her, watching as she worked.

"Hello, Molly. How are you feeling?"

"Better, Sherlock. Thank you for taking care of me last night."

"Oh, so you do remember. I was worried that the alcohol would have prevented you from retaining that memory."

"No, I wasn't that pissed. I haven't blacked out since my Uni days," she let out a half laugh and muttered under her breath, "stupid ceramics class."

"I'm glad to hear you are well. I was concerned for you."

With that statement he turned around an exited her office.

Through her open door she could see him sitting at the table she'd designated for his experiments.

Several hours went by, the morgue completely silent. Molly was grateful for the lack of commotion. Her headache was beginning to clear when she thought about Mary's advice from the night before.

'_You need to make the first move!_' kept echoing in Molly's head.

She took a deep breath, rose from her chair, and started slowly approaching the man perched on the stool across the room as thought he was a tiger poised to attack.

'_Easy, girl, you can do this. Just ask him if he would like to go for coffee with you… it's simple. Easy. A toddler could do it. Except toddlers don't drink coffee. Dammit, Molly, focus!'_ she mentally argued with herself.

"Sherlock, would you like to go grab a coffee with me?"

He looked up at her from his microscope with a blank look on his face as though she hasn't asked a simple question in a language he spoke.

Expecting his usual answer of 'black, two sugars' Molly began walking toward the double doors.

"Molly, wait, give me 5 minutes to clean up after myself. I'd love to have a coffee with you."

Her face blushed a deep red.

"_Oh my god,_" she thought to herself, "_he said yes!"_

**Congrats on completing chapter 3! You are a lovely person for sticking with me this long. This chapter ends on a off key because I'm still debating exactly how Sherlock is going to act on this date... and how much of John & Mary's adventures I will include. I have a "point B" where I'd like to end the story but getting there might need some guidance. Reviews/comments/suggestions are welcome. **

**xoxo**

**H**


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4

It took only moments for Sherlock to stow his experiments away in the proper refrigerators, boxes, and bins before the pair was walking out of the morgue. Molly head for the lift while Sherlock made a turn for the stairs.

"Come," he said as thought he was calling a cocker spaniel, "the exercise will help your body eliminate the toxins your liver hasn't excreted yet."

Rolling her eyes, Molly hitched her overly large bag higher onto her shoulder and followed him up the flight of stairs to the main floor of Bart's.

Once upstairs Sherlock paused and turned to Molly.

"So where were you thinking of grabbing this 'cup of joe' ?" Sherlock jokingly asked in his best American accent, quite pleased that it caused the small woman to giggle.

"Generally I pop around the corner to Lucy's Café. They have my favorite kind of tea, but there are several options around this area. Which do you prefer?"

Offering his arm to her Sherlock began walking in the opposite direction of Lucy's.

"So, not my usual place," she said, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow, doing her best not to let her voice crack or hands shake from the combination of fear and adrenaline.

"No, today I'm taking you to my favorite place."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Mary was about ready to throw her apron on the ground and walk out of Lucy's, never to return when the bell above the door jingled.

She let out a sigh and turned around to find none other than John Watson standing at her counter.

"Hello," he greeted his smile stretching so big it created little lines around his perfect blue eyes.

Mary's mouth went dry. She wanted nothing more than to launch her body over that counter, tackling the man, and covering him with kisses.

She took a deep breath.

"Hello, John. What can I make for you today? The usual coffee?"

"Uh, well, no, a-actually…" he was doing his best not to stutter, but failing miserably, " I was actually wondering if you would, uh, like to have dinner with me…. Perhaps tomorrow night, around seven?"

Mary was stunned. Finally her flirting had paid off, a date with Dr. John Watson. Inside she was doing cartwheels and summersaults.

But wait… tomorrow?

Her facial expression turned from one of joy, to one of concern.

"I didn't mean to be so forward. I'm sorry, I just thought… well it seemed as though you'd been flirting with me… and…" the doctor couldn't even complete his sentence. He could feel his ears turning red.

What was this woman doing to him? He normally was so confident when it came to securing dates.

"Oh, John! No. It isn't that. Molly and I have plans to go dancing tomorrow night. We made them ages ago and I know she's looking forward to it."

The smile left his eyes.

"But I'm free tonight," she added.

"Tonight sounds wonderful. And I think I will have that coffee Mary. Thank you."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

After walking for what seemed like ages, Sherlock and Molly finally reached their destination.

"Here we are," Sherlock said, gesturing to a hunter green door in the middle of the block.

"Sherlock, what is this place? It doesn't look like a café to me. I thought we were heading out for a cuppa."

"I never said it was a café, I said it was my favorite place," he said proudly, knocking on the door.

A small window opened and Molly could see two hazel eyes peering out at them.

"Name?" A voice said, presumable the voice also belonged to the mysterious eyes.

"Sherlock Holmes, and guest."

The large door swung open and the pair quickly shuffled inside.

As Sherlock helped her remove her coat Molly took in her surroundings. It took her a minute to realize where they were. She had been transported to a different era.

"Welcome to Roosevelt's, Molly Hooper. This is my secret hiding place," the tall man removed his jacket while leading her into the large main room.

In the corner there was a small stage that looked like it occasionally held a small band. A piano sat next to the stage. Small tables were scattered throughout the room with candles lit on each one. About one third of them had occupants, which seemed like a considerable number for this time of day. The back wall was lined with liquor and wine bottles. In front of the shimmering wall was a large, dark wood bar with two men in black suits standing behind it.

Molly kept her jaw from dropping. He had brought her to a pub… was this some kind of joke.

She turned her eyes from the vintage room to the dapper man standing next to her. It was shocking how seamlessly he fit into the decor of the space.

He must have sensed the tension and confusion in her body.

"It's a speakeasy, Molly. A pub styled after prohibition America." He explained as he led her to a table labeled 'Reserved'.

"Its lovely, Sherlock. I do enjoy a pint, as you well know, but why did you bring me here?"

"I thought maybe we could experiment with having more than just a working relationship.

Molly was crimson again.

"Oh." She whispered just as a waiter approached, "I'll have a gin and tonic please. A large one."


End file.
